


What Still Hurts

by mamalovesherbagels



Series: Chimney Whump Central [6]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: and isn't feeling too great, chimney misses his mom, maddie does her best to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalovesherbagels/pseuds/mamalovesherbagels
Summary: Chimney is rarely snappish, and if it's even more rare when the one he's snapping at is her. So when he does? She knows something is wrong and no, she's not going to leave it alone.
Relationships: Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Series: Chimney Whump Central [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726990
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	What Still Hurts

“It’s just a headache.”

“Are you sure about that?” Maddie asks carefully, scanning over his face with her eyes. Chimney has a shitty poker face usually, is the thing, but she’s having a hard time reading him at the moment.

“Yes,” he says steadily, “just a headache. I’m tired. Just got back from a long shift.”

“I know,” she murmurs, trying to decide if she believes him or not, “you just look a little pale, and you’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Already ate with the team.”

“Okay,” she replies, still staring at him quizzically. 

“…Can I help you?” he asks, meaning to joke, but there’s an edge to it that’s uncharacteristic for him. He’s a smartass, but he never crosses over into rude territory, especially not with her.

“What’s wrong? You don’t feel well?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, putting his head in his hands before abruptly standing up, “gonna go shower then sleep. Love you.”

“Chim--”

“Please?” is all he answers, practically running to lock the bathroom door and she hears the shower start a moment later.

Yeah. something is definitely off about him.

She knocks once on the door before politely calling, “take all the time you need,” and then retreating into his bedroom to retrieve her phone from the charger.

Maybe Hen or Buck had noticed something off about him today.

Buck replies that maybe he seemed a little tired, and Hen texts back that he was quieter than usual. Which confirms that something is likely wrong, but doesn’t really give her any more clue as to what it might be. 

Cool.

He doesn’t glance over in her direction at all when he comes into the room, just silently puts on some boxers before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Are you--”

“Maddie, I just want to sleep.”

Okay, so we’re still going with the whole (mostly) silent treatment, it would seem.

“Did I do something?” is her next question, and thankfully he lets her finish it.

“No.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Silence.

“Howie--”

“Why can’t you just leave it?!”

And oh, she could tell that he was in a mood but she was _not_ expecting that.

It stings for a few seconds, before her concern quickly overtakes her hurt. This isn’t him, not at all. He doesn’t snap. Not unless something is really bothering him.

“Tell me,” she says calmly, “stop snapping at me and tell me so I can help.”

“Just… don’t feel well,” he mumbles lowly, blushing a bit, “haven’t all day. Can’t tell if I’m coming down with something or not.”

“Come here, let me feel your forehead,” she orders, and he crawls toward her on the bed to meet her hand.

“You’re a little warm,” she murmurs sympathetically, “what doesn’t feel good?”

“Head hurts. Stomach feels weird. Tired.”

“Poor baby. And why didn’t you just tell me when I asked?”

“Because it’s not just that.”

“Oh?” she asks curiously, shifting him to lay with his head in her lap so she can play with his hair,

“My mom. There was a woman today that reminded me of my mom,” he whispers, before realizing that’s a bit confusing and clarifying, “out on a call. Car crash. Her kid made it but she didn’t. As she was dying, you know, she knew she was a-and she… just started telling her kid how much she loved him, and all the things she wanted for him in life. Reminded me of a similar conversation I had with _my_ mom.”

“Oh, Chimney,” Maddie sighs sadly, “honey, no wonder you’re not in a good mood, hm? You’re sick and you’re missing your mom; thinking of one of the hardest conversations you’ve ever had to have in your life.”

“Wanted her to stop,” he whimpers, looking up at her with eyes full of tears, “I didn’t w-want to face that she was dying, I-I… wanted her to stop talking. To stop telling me how she was so proud of me, how she knew I’d do good in the world, how she wanted me to have a kid of my own one day… I knew she was saying all of it because she knew she would die soon. So I wanted her to stop.”

“That’s understandable,” Maddie says calmly, nodding at him to continue.

“But I let her keep talking, for her. Because I knew she needed to say it all, say every last word until she couldn’t anymore. There were things she needed me to know before she left the Earth. So I let her. I let her keep talking even though i-it hurt. It hurt so bad. And that l-look… the look on the kid’s face from today… could tell he was thinking a-and feeling the same thing. Just wanted to s-scream at his mom to shut up because she c-couldn’t die on him, but he let her keep g-going because he loved her. I knew that f-feeling so well. Too well.”

“Honey,” Maddie whispers, tears of her own leaking from her eyes, “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for either one of you.”

“Miss her so bad,” he whimpers, taking a deep breath to try and pull himself together.

“And that’s okay,” she hums, “that’s okay, Chimney. You’re allowed to miss your mom. I know you loved her so, so much.”

“Still do,” he sniffles, wiggling himself up just enough to bury his head in her shoulder and lean into her.

Maddie gets the message and wraps her arms around him right away. Her poor baby, missing his mom and sick and just wanting to be held.

“I got you, Howie, I got you. It’s okay. Going to take care of you.”

“S’fine. Not that sick.”

“You’re clearly not feeling well, and on top of that you’ve had a very emotional day, too. There’s nothing wrong with letting me care for you.”

“Mmmm.”

“Do you want some medicine? Water? Have you eaten anything today?”

“I’m f--”

“Chimney.”

“Tea?” he asks after a moment.

“That I can do,” she nods, kissing his nose before scurrying into the kitchen to put the kettle on and to rummage for something light for him to eat, because she has a hunch that the “I ate with the team earlier” thing was a lie. His stomach might be upset but he still needs to try and eat _something_. She’s a nurse, she knows this.

He’s already fallen asleep when she returns back with tea and some crackers for him, and she knows he’s likely not going to be very happy about being woken up. But he had just finished a 24 hour shift, and his job is physically strenuous by nature. He needs something in his system, sick or not.

And if she finds it adorable when he fusses and whines and sleepily glares at her when she shakes him awake? Well, that’s her little secret.


End file.
